


Something Fluffy

by dapatty



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Crack, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dude’s hair is like sentient, but they do work at the Hair Club For Men. Ian just wanted to touch it, okay?  And then do some other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Fluffy

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by s0ckpupp3t who totally saved my butt since this was a pinch hit for no_tags. Additional warning for adorkable!helpful!Brendon and Ray being SEXASS.

“I’m telling you, he’s just a coworker,” Ian said, defensively. “It’s just a work crush. It’s not a thing. It’s not _remotely_ a thing. I’ll get over it.” Not like he hadn’t had a thing for big guys before, because he had. Did. Does. Will do? He wasn’t sure anymore. His crush has totally gone beyond making any sort of sense or resembling adult thought. It was totally crushing-teenage-girl territory. Well, assuming teenage girls might want Ray Toro to pick them up and fuck them into walls so hard they couldn’t walk the next day. Okay, yes, they would. Who wouldn’t? _...and this is why it no longer resembles adult thought,_ Ian reminded himself.

“A coworker that you want to bang. Because he’s hot,” Brendon said, beaming at Ian, all knowingly and shit. Like he knew exactly what Ian had been thinking and it wasn’t illogical at all. “And his hair is, like, sentient.” Brendon continued, unabated.

This was why Brendon was such a great phone rep. Where Ian would just let customers cut him off - “No, sir, the Bio-Matrix is not a toupee-yes. No. That’s not--- I’m sorry, sir, go ahead,” - Brendon just steamrollered them with charm.

“You’re right, that is a lower price quote, but did you know that many other hair transplant centers examine your scalp with just their eyes or low-level magnification loupes? That's a problem because both of those techniques can damage hair follicles. They're also significantly less effective for men with gray or light-colored hair. Exactly, and--- and you know what we use? Stereo microscopes! We take hair _very seriously_.” Brendon said that last part every single time. Ian had even caught himself saying it on a few phone calls, thinking it might help. The sad part was that it seemed to be working.

Ian knew it had been a mistake to tell Brendon anything. The guy was way too invested in everyone’s sex life. It was as if Brendon was getting so much tail from Spencer that he figured everybody else should be getting laid, too. But Spencer had really shiny hair, so Ian couldn’t really blame Brendon for wanting to shag Spence’s brains out. Logical choice, really. It was no wonder Brendon was so content with everything, and therefore free to meddle in Ian’s life. Asshole.

But Ian wasn’t going to do anything about his not-crush. No sir. Ray was completely out of his league. His hair was legendary, for one. Ian had heard his front-desk selling spiel to new customers. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve got hair that’s naturally like his,” and Ray would point at whoever was working the front desk with him, usually Mikey, “or naturally like mine. We’ve got a solution for you. No, I’m a member too. No, seriously. My hair started thinning. Turns out LaserComb was the right thing for me. They’ll figure out what’s right for you, man. Here, take a look at this pamphlet while you’re waiting.” Not that Ian ever eavesdropped, or made excuses to bring files and mail down to the front desk in between calls, or anything. 

But it wasn’t just about hair. Ian had heard that Ray could play guitar and could legitimately shred. He was always so calm and happy at work. He was probably neck-deep in willing bedwarmers. Or worse, had some secret incredibly faithful and happy relationship. So yeah, totally out of Ian’s league. He was pretty sure. Probably, anyway. And dating co-workers was always a terrible idea. Not that Ian had ever gotten a chance to test that theory, but it had to be true. 

Ian frowned and prepared to start on the many reasons that he wasn’t going to pursue this crush thing or how Brendon could just sod off and do some work already, when none other than Ray Toro turned the corner with his gorgeous completely natural laser-rejuvenated hair and his sex-tastic arms and thighs. 

“Hi Ray!” Brendon beamed.

“Brendon, hey,” Ray greeted, flopping his hair back and raising a hand in greeting. “Hi, Ian.” Ray greeted, a little softer, with a warm little smile that was almost coy.

Ian’s heart skipped a beat. Yep. Teenage girl. 

“Hi,” he chirped, surprising himself with his own perky cheerfulness. _Oh god why do I ever talk I can’t even say words like a normal person_. Ian bit his tongue and tried to look politely at the wall or something.

“So, Ray,” Brendon started, appearing completely unaffected by Ian’s violent kicks to his shin, “Ian really likes you.” Ian promptly stomped on his toes. Brendon just shot Ian a look like Ian was being ridiculous, and continued. “You should totally take him to the supply closet, or somewhere classier, like the third floor men’s rest room that is deserted this time of day. Or, uh --” Brendon finally spared a glance at Ian and Ian’s death glare, ”--coffee!”

Ian’s face felt hot and while he was pretty sure that a person couldn’t actually die from embarrassment, that theory was going to get a decent test. “Aha-haha-hah, um. I’m sorry, Brendon and I were just talking about how _I’m going to give Spencer a crew cut in his sleep_ ,” Ian said through gritted teeth before continuing on merrily, “...and he got a little sidetracked. With joking! Because he’s funny.”

Ray smiled at Ian, all soft fond eyes with a promise tucked in the corners, and continued on like he wasn’t talking to some kind of useless freaky loser. “Actually, I was thinking at least coffee first, and talking about guitars, maybe, and then see from there.” Ray looked at Ian, biting his lip, considering. “Though supply closets do have their merits.”

“I do like coffee and guitar talk,” Ian said, giving a little smile of his own, and meeting Ray’s eyes. “And we can discuss supply closets.” Ian mentally congratulated himself on his own sudden smoothness, wondering how ridiculous he looked saying shit like this when his face was bright pink.

Ray broke out into a full-fledged grin, and then Ian didn’t care what he was saying or what color his face was. Because Ray was _grinning_. At _him_. Because they were going to get coffee. Together.

“He does,” Brendon agreed sagely. Ray chuckled and Ian punched Brendon in the arm, hard. 

“So, I’ll see you later,” Ray said, “I’ll meet you out front.”

“Okay, great,” Ian beamed. Ray gave a last smile and wandered off with a little wave over his shoulder as he turned the corner.

Brendon promptly held up a hand for a high five, “Am I awesome or what? You got a date!”

“Or what,” Ian deadpanned, but totally slapped Brendon’s hand and allowed himself a smile anyway.

“C’mon,” Brendon cajoled, “You love me and you’re thankful for my awesomeness, say it.”

Ian rolled his eyes, “Thank you for being an asshole who can’t respect my boundaries or secrets, because without jerks like you around, I might never get laid.”

“ _That’s_ what I’m talkin’ about!” Brendon crowed. “Attaboy.”

******

He and Ray did make it for that cup of coffee--make that three cups, where they talked about guitars, and amps, and pick thicknesses, and strings, and agreed to see each others bands.

Just when they were thinking of getting another cup, Ray admitted, “So I’ve kind of been crushing on you since the office Christmas party.”

“Really?” Ian squeaked. “Oh God, the Christmas party. Where I totally danced on Gerard’s cubicle. You were there for that.” He covered his face with his hands a little mortified. It wasn’t his fault. Gabe Saporta gave him a drink. You could never trust Gabe when it came to alcohol, unless you were counting on lowered inhibitions and lap dances. He was a fantastic stylist, though. He was always trying out new things, usually using Gerard as a guinea pig. If Ian remembered correctly, Gabe had given Gerard a red-and-green fauxhawk for that party.

“Well, you seemed to really enjoy it, while looking totally amazing,” Ray interrupted Ian’s embarrassment-inspired reverie. “And you do look good without your shirt and on your knees. Helluva thing to see.” Ray’s eyes were dark and he licked his lips. 

“You should take me home so you can see first hand,” Ian offered, giving his most devilish smile and then nervously, because he might have misjudged this. He didn’t think he had, but well. He was no Brendon. “I mean, if you wanna.”

“I want to,” Ray said. “And I want to get a better look at that bird on your sternum.”

“You can see that very clearly when I’m on my knees. If you want me on my knees, or, um, anywhere else, actually. You can totally manhandle me,” Ian said, hopefully. “Like, a lot. You could totally put me anywhere you want.” _Please, please, please_.

“Oh, I plan on it.” Ray actually fucking winked.

*******

So, that’s how Ian ended up completely naked--he honestly wasn’t sure where his clothes landed, like, an actual search in the morning might be necessary--and spread out on Ray Toro’s enormous bed on the lower East side of town, while Ray went down on him for round two. 

Round one involved Ray putting Ian exactly where he wanted him. Which was up against the wall, with Ian’s leg’s wrapped around Ray’s waist, Ray fucking him senseless. Seriously, those arms and power thighs were no joke. Fucking amazing. 

Ray didn’t even have the nerve to look tired. He just looked flushed and happy and incredible even with his mouth around Ian’s dick--no, _especially_ with his mouth around Ian’s dick. Then his tongue swivelled around and over the slit of Ian’s cock, and Ian’s brain kind of shorted out. Ray’s hand expertly worked the bottom of the shaft as he sucked the tip, then opened his jaw wider and sucked Ian down to the hilt. Ian could not be expected to form coherent thought and went from babbling to a broken noise of awe and surprise, wrapping his fingers in Ray’s long hair and coming his brains out.

Ray pulled off with a self-satisfied smile. “You liked that?”

Of course Ian liked that. Who wouldn’t like that? Ray with his fucking sinful mouth and everything. But all Ian could manage was a few unintelligible consonants and a very enthusiastic nod of his head. 

“I’m gonna turn you over, prop you on your knees and fuck you into the mattress now,” Ray said.

Ian audibly gulped and said, “Yes. That sounds like awesome.”

So Ray did.


End file.
